Michael Malone - Weebly

things had stood in his way, blocking his reach: Socialist
teachers, Communist Jews, welfare blacks, and the
female sex. Politicians, journalists, labor unions, the
Supreme Court, and women strove to deceive and
impede him. If he could only one evening turn Fred's
Fries into a Burgerbräukeller to start that putsch that
would set America right, then he would show them. But
nobody in Fred's Fries wanted to listen. Something was
wrong.
At 1:30 A.M., Barnum stood in his upstairs room.
The night had gotten hot and sticky, and his window
was open, though covered with curtains. Now from
across the street he heard laughter. Onethirty lousy
A.M., and they were still at it. Hedgerow's poker party.
It made him hate them all. Especially that snot A.A.
Hayes who hung out not only with his neighbors on
Glover's Lane, but with the lawyer Abernathy and the
rest of the big snots over on Elizabeth Circle, people
whom Barnum had invited into his store for fifteen
years, but who had never invited him anywhere. He bet
he could count on his fingers the times he'd been in
Hayes's house, and Hayes lived right next door to him.